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This forest, devoted for the Nordic gods, was as ever beautiful as the forest he had lived in. Even during night, possibly even more so, all of it’s naturally entrancing features being magnified. From the soft sounds of various animals, to the gentle blow of the wind, it was all enough to calm his nerves. Even so as much as almost completely relaxing himself to let his form melt into that of a wolf’s visage. Yet, something had decided to appear near his person—something with scales.[break][break]

His mind moved from the distinct smell of scales, to the beings that he knew to own such things. Snakes were one—it wasn’t hard for his thoughts then to recall the young, bright eyes of his youngest sibling. Silver scales, accompanied with a mind as clever as their father’s, yet filled with more innocence than he ever expected Loki to have.[break][break]

It was obvious, though, that this being was not his brother, but something of another pantheon. Amber hues narrowed as he watched the serpent tangle themselves into a tree, transforming into a more humane appearance. Fenrir had expected some sharp wit from an equally split tongue, only to hear about his own anger; anger deep rooted in his heart, never to be pulled out. He couldn’t help but have his eyes widen a spell, and replies dying in his throat.[break][break]

It was the truth he never wanted to hear. Fenrir was the opposite of every other deity in Cosmos’s side—fueled by his rage, dreaming of the war that never happened. How fucked up, to have dreams of worlds ending, and not see it as a nightmare? Teeth ground against one another, in attempt to starve those dark, unending thoughts away. It did little to help. Breathing out, the wolf then spoke, voice as sharp as he’d hope. “Order is not built upon hopes and dreams. Even if the others won’t admit it,” he didn’t belong there, “I have seen the damage gods can do if gone unchecked. I’m merely a reminder of what can become of them.”